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"
But
poor
Mr.
D'Arcy
does
n't
like
the
snow
,
"
said
Aunt
Kate
,
smiling
.
Mr.
D'Arcy
came
from
the
pantry
,
fully
swathed
and
buttoned
,
and
in
a
repentant
tone
told
them
the
history
of
his
cold
.
Everyone
gave
him
advice
and
said
it
was
a
great
pity
and
urged
him
to
be
very
careful
of
his
throat
in
the
night
air
.
Gabriel
watched
his
wife
,
who
did
not
join
in
the
conversation
.
She
was
standing
right
under
the
dusty
fanlight
and
the
flame
of
the
gas
lit
up
the
rich
bronze
of
her
hair
,
which
he
had
seen
her
drying
at
the
fire
a
few
days
before
.
She
was
in
the
same
attitude
and
seemed
unaware
of
the
talk
about
her
.
At
last
she
turned
towards
them
and
Gabriel
saw
that
there
was
colour
on
her
cheeks
and
that
her
eyes
were
shining
.
A
sudden
tide
of
joy
went
leaping
out
of
his
heart
.
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"
Mr.
D'Arcy
,
"
she
said
,
"
what
is
the
name
of
that
song
you
were
singing
?
"
"
It
's
called
The
Lass
of
Aughrim
,
"
said
Mr.
D'Arcy
,
"
but
I
could
n't
remember
it
properly
.
Why
?
Do
you
know
it
?
"
"
The
Lass
of
Aughrim
,
"
she
repeated
.
"
I
could
n't
think
of
the
name
.
"
"
It
's
a
very
nice
air
,
"
said
Mary
Jane
.
"
I
'm
sorry
you
were
not
in
voice
tonight
.
"
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"
Now
,
Mary
Jane
,
"
said
Aunt
Kate
,
"
do
n't
annoy
Mr.
D'Arcy
.
I
wo
n't
have
him
annoyed
.
"
Seeing
that
all
were
ready
to
start
she
shepherded
them
to
the
door
,
where
good-night
was
said
:
"
Well
,
good-night
,
Aunt
Kate
,
and
thanks
for
the
pleasant
evening
.
"